


Safe

by testosterlonely



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Firbolg snuggles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, background beaujester if you squint, caleb has a breakdown, dead people tea, everything is okay now, yeza is safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 19:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17925224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testosterlonely/pseuds/testosterlonely
Summary: “Caleb’s mind could never stay quiet long enough to get a moment of rest. If the thoughts raced too fast, too hard, the spiral was inevitable - the memories, the flames, the pain. They’d been gone for years, but on the bad nights, the worst nights, Caleb swore he felt the crystals in his arms, his skin, his brain. When Nott was there, she knew how to curl under his arms, to use her best Mom Voice, and bring him through the worst of it. But she was with Yeza now, and Gott knows he can’t bother her. She has too much to take care of, let alone a grown man who should be able to deal with it himself.”Caleb has a rough night and Caduceus is there to help.





	Safe

Caleb couldn’t sleep. Unsurprising, of course, because he felt his anxiety level grow higher by the day as the Nein traveled closer and closer to the Empire. Xhorhas had been chaotic, but there was new magic to learn, illusions to keep up, and Nott needed him. But now, Nott had Yeza to care for, and to care for her. Of course, Caleb was happy for Nott, but he couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy in his stomach each night when the goblin and her husband went into their own room in the inn. After months of spending each night with Nott next to him, having his own room felt lonely and strange. 

Besides the lack of the goblin’s snoring, there was the knowledge of where they were headed. It was time to get his revenge, to take Trent and the Empire down, and Caleb’s mind could never stay quiet long enough to get a moment of rest. If the thoughts raced too fast, too hard, the spiral was inevitable - the memories, the flames, the pain. They’d been gone for years, but on the bad nights, the worst nights, Caleb swore he felt the crystals in his arms, his skin, his brain. When Nott was there, she knew how to curl under his arms, to use her best Mom Voice, and bring him through the worst of it. But she was with Yeza now, and Gott knows he can’t bother her. She has too much to take care of, let alone a grown man who should be able to deal with it himself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Caleb could feel himself spiraling out of control, and he knew he needed help, he needed someone, something. In a blind panic, feeling the bile rise in his throat, he knocked heavily on the nearest door, hoping someone was there. Beau and Jester had taken to spending time together, alone, sometimes in the tavern until long after midnight. And Fjord - maybe it would be better if Fjord wasn’t there - Caleb wouldn’t want him to see him like this, and anyways, he’s not the most comforting half-orc in the world. 

He heard heavy steps toward the door and, for a half a second, doubted his decision - this wasn’t anyone else’s responsibility, he should be able to deal with it himself, he shouldn’t bother anyone - until he saw the face on the other side of the door. 

Caduceus Clay, with his sleepy eyes and calming smile, looked confused for just a second before the concern took over. “Mr. Caleb, are you feeling okay-“ he began, taking in Caleb’s (more than usually) disheveled clothes and pale, sweaty skin, pulling the door open. “Fjord went out, said he’d be back in the morning. Are you well? Please, come in.”

Caleb felt his knees buckle - whether it was the knowledge he was safe, the flooding of emotions, or the fear that he’d made the wrong decision. Before he could even find the words to explain what was going on, he found himself wrapped tightly in the firbolg’s arms. 

“I’ll make some tea.”

Caleb found himself gently placed on the bed nearest the door. It had to be Caduceus’ - it smelled lightly like tea leaves and moss, and Caleb couldn’t help but find himself comforted by it. He watched quietly as Caduceus busied himself with the kettle, hands scratching absentmindedly at his scars - visible now. It had been a few weeks since he had removed his wraps, and he still felt a bit naked without them, especially around Caduceus. Granted, even with his wraps on he felt naked around Caduceus - perceptive, kind, caring Caduceus, the opposite of Caleb. The opposite of what he deserved. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The thoughts began to spiral again, and he didn’t realize he had been holding in a breath until he saw Caduceus turn in his direction.

“Mr. Caleb, is there something I can do?” the firbolg asked, moving a few steps closer and putting down the tea kettle.

There was, of course, something he could do, but Caleb couldn’t ask for it. He didn’t deserve what he needed, to be wrapped up in the larger man’s arms and held and rocked, like his mother did all those years ago. A lifetime ago. When he was Bren, who deserved love, and kindness, and good things. Bren deserved that, but Caleb… Caleb did not. 

Sensing his uncertainty, Caduceus moved another step closer, and asked again, quieter, “Mr. Caleb?” Caduceus was close enough that Caleb could see his eyelashes, count each strand of his fluffy hair. Caleb was overwhelmed by the urge to pull the firbolg closer, take in the dirt and peat, run his fingers through his pink mane, lightly mussed by the night’s rest. But Caleb? Caleb didn’t deserve that. Caleb didn’t deserve the comfort. 

“Nein, Mr. Clay,” he answered quietly, “Just tea will be fine.”

Caleb thought he sensed a brief flash of disappointment in the firbolg’s eyes, but he shook it off, reminding himself that Caduceus would be better off kicking him out anyways. He was certain he had hoped Caleb would say he was fine and go back to his room, leaving Caduceus to himself. There was no way he felt the same. Why would Caduceus - who laughed, and joked, and smiled, and helped - have any desire to be close to Caleb in the way he craved? 

The thoughts Caleb had about Caduceus - no one, not even Nott, could know about those. Nott had caught him staring at the firbolg a few times, but he just lied and told her that the firbolg unsettled him, or that he was trying to keep an eye out for danger. No one could know the dreams he had - of them walking hand in hand, or lying together in the Zemni fields. Caduceus, especially, could never know of the night he woke up covered in his own spunk, with Caduceus’ name on his lips, after a dream with the two entangled. He couldn’t even look Caduceus in the eyes for days afterwards, feeling that the man would know just by seeing him. There was no way Caduceus would feel the same, and even if he did, it would be better for everyone if he did not. Caleb knew his mission would end with him dead, and although he couldn’t stop the Nein from caring about him, he could at least try and lessen the collateral damage. 

The two shared the room in relative silence, with Caduceus humming softly as he poured the the tea into the tiny cups he must have on hand for his tinier friends, as they looked almost comical in Caduceus’ hands. Caduceus softly padded over to the bed and handed him the tea, shyly explaining, “Briarwoods. Nasty family, but they make a lovely tea. I didn’t have any milk but I put in some sugar for you - I could go get some milk from downstairs, if you needed it.”

“Nein, Mr. Clay, this… this is perfect,” Caleb said quietly, taking the cup and trying to ignore the electricity he felt when their hands touched - he must be imagining it. Fire and gravestones don’t go well together. He took a sip quickly, Caduceus watching expectantly, and Caleb felt a warmth fill his anxious belly. He knew the tea had no divine powers, but there must be some healing magic imbued in the cups.

As he took another draught of the tea, he watched carefully as Caduceus sat down next to him, not too close as to be improper but not so far away that he could not just grab the firbolg’s hand - but he couldn’t, it would ruin everything even more than it already was.

Caleb’s body felt like it was on fire with Caduceus so near to him. His hands shook as he drank his tea, focusing on anything but the heat coming off the firbolg’s body. The two men sat in silence, never moving closer, but never moving further away, until the cups were empty. The calmness that had began to envelop Caleb’s body began to waver as he realized he would soon need to go back to his room, where he would be alone with his thoughts again, left to fall apart alone. 

As if sensing the change in the smaller man’s body, Caduceus moved closer, just by an inch, and asked, slowly and calmly, “Mr. Caleb, would you mind staying here with me tonight? I don’t know when Fjord will be back, and it gets awfully lonely in here sometimes. It’s just too quiet.”

Caleb’s first urge, always the first urge, was to stammer out a no and run out the door, back to where he deserved to be, alone. But a voice in the back of his head told him, “Liebling, stay. Stay where you are safe.” It was a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time, a voice he didn’t deserve to hear any more. His mother’s. Stunned, and shocked, by the voice and by the question, he stammered, “Uh— I— I could—- I shouldn’t— but, yes, I think, yes.”

He looked up, expecting to see disappointment, anger, something, but all he saw in the firbolg’s eyes was happiness. “Great, then. You’ll stay here tonight, you’ll take my bed, and I’ll take the floor.”

Caleb felt a wave of disappointment, and a swell of sudden courage. “Herr Clay, you could… stay in the bed, with me?” He regretted it as soon as the words came out, stupid stupid stupid, arms curling around his wrists, but was interrupted by the rumbling voice of the firbolg, telling him, “That sounds nice, Mr. Caleb.”

The anxiety growing in his stomach made every inch of his brain scream “Run”, but the voice - the voice of his mother - was louder, stronger, filling him with the courage he needed to stay. As a man who was born to run, sometimes staying in one place, in one bed, was far scarier than the unknown outside. 

Caleb let himself curl up in the too-tiny bed he shared with Caduceus, finding himself smiling at the idea that he was lying where he once held Nott. The firbolg’s chest was soft and his breathing rhythmic and clear, until the cleric and the wizard both found themselves drifting off. 

 

—

 

Fortunately, Fjord had the intelligence not to ask or tell the others when he stumbled back into the room after far too many drinks to find Caleb and Caduceus curled up together. He sighed and rummaged through Caleb’s pockets to grab the key to Caleb’s room, spending the night there instead - as much as he loved his bed, he knew this was a moment he shouldn’t interrupt. 

After that night, things changed slowly, so slowly that if you weren’t watching closely enough, you might not have noticed it. Caleb and Caduceus spent more and more nights together - at first, only after the rough days, the anxious days, but in time, it became every night. Jester caught them staring at each other throughout the day, and was kicked under the table by Fjord when she asked excitedly, “Caleb, are you secretly in love with Caduceus?” 

Things were never perfect - there was a war going on, and death lurked around every corner - but for the first time in many years, Caleb Widogast felt…better, optimistic even. Even on the worst nights, when he felt himself falling out of control, when Trent’s face haunted his nightmares, he was no longer alone, safe in Caduceus’ arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the wonderful Clayleb server for encouraging and editing for me, especially yfere! You can find me on Tumblr at testosterlonely.


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